


An Irresistible Sweet Tooth

by TessaTheirin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3897127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessaTheirin/pseuds/TessaTheirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A giveaway fic for Solasshole. </p>
<p>Elora Lavellan is instructed to follow a strict diet in order to heal after the events at Haven. She can’t resist her sweet tooth, and convinces Solas to sneak in sweets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Irresistible Sweet Tooth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dafucc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dafucc/gifts).



> This is for you, friend! I hope you enjoy it :)

Elora Lavellan had been shuffled off to visit the healer, Oswin, soon after arriving at Skyhold. The makeshift solutions to her serious injuries had held during their numerous day trip to the hold, but they would not suffice in the long run. With each step Elora felt as if the stitches along her abdomen would unwind and the bandages would slip off. 

Sitting atop the cot awaiting the healer was worrying. Elora wondered if her wounds had worsened or caused permanent damage. When Oswin entered the room, the breath hitched in Elora’s throat. He reassured her with a smile, one that was simply a formality and refused to reach his eyes. His hands were cold and raised goosebumps wherever they touched along Elora’s skin. 

“Your wounds have begun to heal quite nicely, mistress Lavellan,” Oswin said, fingertips pausing periodically at various scratches, her body decorated with a myriad of colourful bruises. It was shocking that Elora even survived. “A few wounds will require more sophisticated stitching, but whoever healed you after the battle certainly knew the basics.” 

Oswin’s excitement at the lack of serious injuries vanished the moment Elora unbuttoned her shirt, revealing a hefty gash along her stomach. It had been sewn--badly--at the camp following Haven. The green tinted bruises did little to hide the swollen, puffy skin that surrounded the cut. “I’m afraid this one is infected,” He frowned, pressing on it with the tip of his finger. Elora gasped at the pain that shot through her body. “And painful too, it seems. There isn’t much to do other than clean and redress it. I would suggest following a diet of herb soups, though.” 

Elora groaned at the suggestion, earning an unsympathetic chuckle from Solas, who stood perched against the door frame across the room. After shooting him a playful glare, Elora returned her attention to the healer. “It’s not a requirement, then?” 

Oswin smiled, “if you refuse to follow it, I might have to make it one.” 

Elora was uncertain whether it was a threat or a joke.

Solas unfolded his arms and approached Elora, a wide grin still decorating his face. “We may have to schedule regular trips to the fade in order to satiate your hunger, vhenan.” With one hand supporting Elora’s elbow, Solas guided the elf back to her chambers. 

Elora frowned. “I guess fade sweets are better than--” A familiar, irresistible smell wafted into her nostrils. Freshly baked pastries were scattered across a table in the great hall, meant to be refreshments for the Orlesian nobles who were visiting Skyhold. Saliva filled her mouth, stomach growling in response to the scent. “How is one supposed to resist something they can’t have? This diet is impossible.” 

An idea stilled Elora’s feet and brought a forceful grin to her face, cheeks puffing out from the force. The words fell from her mouth in an excited whisper, “Hurry!” Without worry for her reputation, Elora grabbed a plate of Orlesian cream pastries and shoved it into Solas’ arms.

A crease formed in between Solas’ eyebrows, along with an expression of genuine confusion. “And what do you wish me to do with these?” 

“Hide them! Anywhere they will fit.” The tightness of Elora’s mouth and desperation in her eyes told Solas she was not being playful and that she did, in fact, intend for him to shove pastries into his clothing. 

Noticing Solas’ hesitation, Elora took a pastry and thrusted it into his tunic. Solas gasped and took a fumbling step backward, unrecognizable elven falling from his mouth in a curse. Elora bit her lip to stifle a giggle, mirroring her previous actions on herself instead. “Judgment is unacceptable, emma lath. Hurry before the healer finds us.” 

With clothing full of sweets and skin coated in sugar and icing, Elora took Solas’ hand in her own and pulled him back to her chambers. Thankfully, many of the nobles that were usually scattered across the great hall were elsewhere, and there were few remaining to give the couple odd looks. No doubt a rumour would stir from this, but Elora was confident Josephine could handle it. Not that it mattered, her sweet tooth overpowered the concern. 

Plopping down onto her mattress, Elora took a pastry from underneath her clothing and shoved it halfway into her mouth, almost moaning at the sugary taste of it. She attempted to form a coherent sentence, but the words became even more jumbled with each try. Solas watched in amusement, keeping his distance to ensure Elora did not attack him next. 

“You have to try this,” Elora expressed, remnants of the pastry scattered across her mouth. 

Elora refused to let the sneaking end with that first encounter, begging Solas to continually bring her platters of sweets from the kitchen each day. The contents were different with each occassions, but Elora was thankful for it all, whether it be gummies or pastries or chocolates. Each were divine, imported from across Thedas. 

A few days had passed, and a familiar knocking on her chambers’ door caused excitement to bubble inside Elora’s chest. She scurried down the steps, wasting little time in getting her daily fill of sweets. The smile was washed from her face upon throwing open the door. The visitor caused her heart to sink down into her stomach.

“I hope this isn’t an intrusion, mistress Lavellan. How have you been feeling? Any fever or cough?” Oswin frowned, lifting a hand to Elora’s forehead. “You appear ill. Mind if I look at your wounds?” 

Elora resisted the urge to create excuses as an intense feeling of horror washed over her. Solas was due for a visit any moment, with sweets she was forbidden from eating. Upon clearing her throat, she shuffled to the side to allow Oswin to pass. “Of course, but can we make this quick? Leliana wished to speak with me.” 

Resting her body against the silk linens of her bed, Elora released the bottom buttons of her shirt, continuing until all but her breasts were exposed. “How does it look?”

Oswin made a quizzical sound, running his fingertips along the gash. “The redness has decreased, but the swelling has yet to follow. have you been following the diet I recommended?” 

Elora gulped, searching frantically for words to tell the healer. A knock echoed into her chambers, bringing an even bigger sense of dead down upon her. Elora prayed to the Creators that she could button her top before Solas took her silence as invitation to enter. 

The heavy wooden door swung shut, followed by the creak of the old stairs as Solas ascended them. Elora cursed beneath her breath, fumbling on the last button. The colour drained from her face as she looked up, noticing Solas’ bald head emerge from below. “Solas wait!” Elora cried, earning a curious stare from both her lover and Oswin.  
Oswin squinted against the blinding sunlight that shone in through the open balcony doors, mouth pulling into a concerningly tight line. “Are those pastries?” 

“No,” Elora denied immediately, the tips of her ears becoming heated from embarrassment. She pushed strands of black hair from behind her ears to hide the blatant redness. 

The healer returned her obvious lie with a stern look and an equally harsh tone. “You haven’t been following the diet guidelines, have you, Inquisitor?” 

She bit at her lip, once again finding no words to aid the situation. “No.” 

Oswin began to shove various supplies into an aged medicine bag, the clanging of metal containers breaking the awkward silence that had filled the room. “I suggest you do,” He warned, “Infections are not something one should gamble with.” Elora flinched with each slam of his shoes against the wooden floor.

“Perhaps I should have encouraged you to indulge in the fade.” Solas’ face was an unreadable mask as he approached, climbing the remainder of the stairs. He placed the plate of sweets Elora no longer felt an urge to eat on the desk, poking at one of the puffed pastries with a finger. “We could explore the fade now, if you wish. I’m sure memories of ancient cuisine exist.” 

Elora let out a breath of laughter, heart still hammering inside her chest from the stress of the previous encounter. She had been undeniably foolish. As the Inquisitor, she had a responsibility to Thedas to ensure her wounds healed and she recovered. “I would love to, Solas.” She took his hand in hers, allowing Solas to feel the erratic nature of her heartbeat as his fingers caressed her skin. 

With hovering fingers, Solas traced the lines of her vallaslin agonizingly slowly. His gaze lingered on her with a look of pure adoration, almost as if he was attempting to memorize every inch of her face. His mouth quirked up into a smile, words breathless and hushed as they fell from his mouth, “You’re spirit is...magnificent, vhenan.” 

“We should…” The words caught in Elora’s throat, mind distracted by the closeness of his lips. With a shaky breath, she mirrored his grin to hide her nervousness. “We should sleep, then.”


End file.
